


Clarity

by jarynw02



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Bokuto Koutarou Angst, Character Study, Domestic Fluff, Feelings, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Friendship origin, Funeral, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Kinda Fluffy, M/M, Minor Character Death, OK THERES FLUFF NOW, Pre-Canon, Smitten Akaashi Keiji, aiming for a poetic vibe, big brother bokuto, bokuto isnt a five year old, fight me, i have sO MANY FEELINGS, not sure if it will be multichapter, or something, their friendship is so pure
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:40:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23689333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jarynw02/pseuds/jarynw02
Summary: Akaashi wasn’t sure how it happened, when it really started, but once the first tear tracked down his cheek, he couldn’t stop the crack that burst from his throat. His mother’s arms were there, wrapping him in a warmth that pooled something like guilt in his gut. He wiped at his eyes, his sleeve smoothly catching his tears before his mother’s thumbs could follow in their place.“What happened?”Akaashi raised his eyes above her, ignoring the weight of moisture beneath them.“Bokuto-san asked me to go to his father’s funeral with him tomorrow.”
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Comments: 8
Kudos: 77





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my emotional dumping grounds. 
> 
> This is my first writing for this fandom and I've been really hesitant to touch it because of how emotional the entire series makes me -- but of course I had to start with my favorite babies. 
> 
> \--bokuaka forever
> 
> trigger warning: parental death, heavily emotional funeral scene.

“Akaashi?”

His hands froze on the stiff, prickly knot of the volleyball net before resting against the pole as he looked over his shoulder. “Yes, Bokuto-san?”

The gym was empty, night bleeding in through the open double doors and windows high above them all around. Everyone else was long gone and Akaashi was already thinking about his dinner waiting to be reheated at home. Bokuto had been more insistent than usual about their post-team practicing, holding Akaashi hostage longer than every other day despite the fact that they still had a while before their next tournament. 

Surprisingly, Bokuto was not in his immediate space. 

He was backed away, an unfamiliar look on his face that sent gears turning in Akaashi’s mind that he had to force to still. They were not in the middle of a match and practice was over. He didn’t need to analyze Bokuto, didn’t need to unravel the puzzle that was Bokuto’s moods so that the team could be successful. Still, having to wait for Bokuto to speak up set him on edge and Akaashi shifted on his feet, turning to him fully. 

“Bokuto-san?”

His senpai stood warily away, a volleyball gripped tight in his fingers. He spun it, his golden eyes watching the motion with a razor-sharp focus unfitting to the late hour. Lips parted, he opened his mouth only to close it again, his jaw rusting with the heavy motion. 

“Hey.” Bokuto’s eyes snapped up at his voice and Akaashi raised a hesitant brow. “What is it?”

A weak smile tugged on Bokuto’s cheeks and Akaashi was instantly uncomfortable. It wasn’t so much the smile that wasn’t really any sort of smile, nor the huff of air Bokuto seemed to choke on but rather the strange look in Bokuto’s eyes. He’d never seen them look that way. 

“I wanted to ask you something,” Bokuto started, pausing to look back at his volleyball. The others had already been put away. All they needed to do was take down the net and sweep the gym before they called it a night and went their separate ways. 

“Alright.”

Akaashi watched the ball spin in his spiker’s hands. 

“Will you come to my dad’s funeral with me tomorrow?”

The blood drained from Akaashi’s body all at once, flushing out of him and leaving him cold. An ache spilled through his bones in its place -- his chest crowded with questions he couldn’t even finish in his mind, let alone speak them out loud. 

His mind traced over every word he’d spoken to Bokuto during practice today -- every chide and smart remark. 

And he hadn’t even noticed anything was off. 

“You don’t have to,” Bokuto continued, gripping his volleyball -- looking away from him. “I get that it’s not… it’s not the most comfortable thing to do.”

When?

How long had he…?

Did anyone know?

Something thick caught in Akaashi’s throat and he tried to ignore it. 

“Yes,” he said instead. “I’ll go with you.”

Bokuto’s eyes flicked up at him for just a breath before he looked toward the door. “Okay.”

There was a moment of stillness between them. 

Akaashi wanted to tell him that he’d finish closing up the gym alone, but he couldn’t find the words. Would he want to keep his mind busy? He’d wanted to stay another extra hour for practice, so it’s possible he didn’t want to go home. But the idea of Bokuto doing any additional work right now felt wrong. 

He kept his mouth shut and they tucked away the last of the equipment twenty minutes later. When Bokuto pulled the key from the lock and turned into the darkness, Akaashi struggled to walk away. 

“You’ll miss school,” Bokuto said out of nowhere. “Sorry, I kind of forgot about that part.”

Akaashi didn’t look at him -- couldn’t look at him. “It’s fine.”

White hair bobbed in his peripherals. “Right,” Bokuto said, his voice barely there, before he turned away. 

Akaashi listened to the quiet steps of sneakers on the concrete fade into nothing before he made his own way home. 

It was warm inside, the faint sounds of his siblings arguing whispered into the entryway. He could already picture Rin holding the toy above his head, brows crossed and Sumiko’s mouth wide with wailing cries as tears slipped past her lips as she reached up to play. His father would step in soon, seizing the toy only to sit between them and start a new game despite the time. 

Akaashi would normally peek his head in before retiring to his homework, but his feet wouldn’t move. 

His mother appeared, a soft smile genuine on her face as she approached. “Keiji, it’s so late.” 

Akaashi wasn’t sure how it happened, when it really started, but once the first tear tracked down his cheek, he couldn’t stop the crack that burst from his throat. His mother’s arms were there, wrapping him in a warmth that pooled something like guilt in his gut. He wiped at his eyes, his sleeve smoothly catching his tears before his mother’s thumbs could follow in their place. 

“What happened?”

Akaashi raised his eyes above her, ignoring the weight of moisture beneath them. 

“Bokuto-san asked me to go to his father’s funeral with him tomorrow.”

The pain was like a disease, spreading from Bokuto to him and now his mother. Her fingers tensed on his skin as she wiped away another tear. She heard the question in his words.

“Of course,” her voice faltered. “You should be there for your friend.”

Another twist in his chest. 

Were he and Bokuto friends?

They’d been on the same team for nearly a year now. They practiced together every single day. They studied together often, Akaashi forcing Bokuto to pay some mind to his grades he could care less about. 

But Akaashi didn’t really know anything about the national level player. 

Sure, he could sense the impending fits, the needs for attention, and the depths of dejection on Bokuto’s slightly growing hairpin trigger. 

However, Bokuto had never spoken of his family -- never taken their relationship beyond volleyball or schoolwork. 

How could Akaashi call himself Bokuto’s friend after not noticing this?

Still, Bokuto had chosen Akaashi to go with him tomorrow. 

To Bokuto, they were friends. 

Another set of fat tears streaked down his face. 

“I’m gonna go to bed,” he rasped and his mother nodded, telling him she would bring him food and he needed to eat before he fell asleep. 

When he’d finished there was a text waiting for him.

Bokuto Koutarou: well pick you up in the morning on the way. 930ish. 

He typed out a quick response. 

Akaashi Keiji: No, I’ll get a ride to your place before then. Address?

It took seconds for Bokuto to drop a pin of his location and Akaashi didn’t know what else to say. 

A knock sounded at his door and Akaashi already knew who it was -- just like the pit in his stomach knew to yawn open and threaten to swallow him. 

“Keiji?” his dad whispered as he poked his head in. 

Akaashi only turned his head, letting another wave of tears fall onto his crossed ankles atop his bed. 

His father’s lips pulled to one side, eyes softening as he moved to sit in front of him. “Your mom told me.”

Akaashi rubbed his palms on his eyes, taking a breath. 

“I don’t--” he started. “I don’t know how to help him this time.”

A hand fell to his knee. “There’s nothing you really can do, son. Just be there for him when he needs you.”

Akaashi dragged his hands down his face, ignoring the pricks of swelling starting to form. “Yeah.”

“You’re a good friend.”

_ Am I? _

His father left shortly after, making sure Akaashi knew that he’d told his siblings to leave him be for the night. 

His parents’ words echoed through the quiet of his room, cinching something stiff around his neck. 

Bokuto was the center of their team; the ace as a second year and almost guaranteed to be captain next year. He’d already been in a nationwide article at sixteen and widely known for his unwavering, often unbearable, but infectious personality. He was only hindered on the court by himself, his skill and power rivaled by few. His energy was the energy of Fukurodani, propelling them all to keep up -- to stand on their own at his side as he flew above them. 

He was also the reason Akaashi had chosen Fukurodani. 

And now, he realized, he was also a person. 

A boy. 

And he wondered if Bokuto had any other friends, anyone outside of volleyball.

Anyone other than Akaashi. 

His phone lit up beside him and he swiped at his nose with his bare arm.

Bokuto Koutarou: thanks Akaashi. 

  
  


-X-

  
  


Bokuto’s house was larger than Akaashi’s and it made him wonder if he had any siblings. He’d never seen any of Bokuto’s family at their games, never seen him with anyone afterward, though they usually left together as a team. And now, as Akaashi straightened the crisp pants of his suit, it was hard to tell the size of Bokuto’s family with all the cars littering the driveway and sidewalks. 

His shoes clicked on their way up the stairs, the flutters of anticipating knocking on the door slipping away as white hair caught his attention. Bokuto was sitting on the porch, far in a corner. 

He forced himself to speak first. “Waiting for me?”

Bokuto’s eyes tore away from the window beside him, a gentle, heavy smile stretching on his cheeks. “Yep.”

There were no signs of tears, no signs of a sleepless night or any lingering pink beneath his eyes. His hair was the same as always, but his eyes were dull and his suit wrinkled with his poor posture. 

Akaashi joined him on the small bench following Bokuto’s line of sight as his attention went back through the foggy glass into his home. 

A woman with golden eyes sat on a couch surrounded by others, her shoulders sagging and arms reaching out to her from every direction. Her fingers clenched around a black handkerchief, tears Akaashi couldn’t see falling from beneath a fringe the color of Bokuto’s roots. 

Bodies shifted inside, eventually blocking their view through the window, but Bokuto didn’t look away so neither did Akaashi.

Eventually, they were herded into cars. Akaashi followed Bokuto diligently, even when he wanted to protest about joining him and his mother in the rented black car with tinted windows that seemed to close in around them. She sat between them in the backseat and Akaashi compelled his eyes to stay clear and straight ahead when she reached for both his and Bokuto’s hands without having ever been introduced. 

He focused on counting his breaths when she rested her head on her son’s shoulder. 

They gathered in a sanctuary, Akaashi following behind Bokuto and his mother who never let go of his hand. The sea of faces blurred into hints of Bokuto’s features, his family all puffy-eyed and distant as they took their seats. Anytime Akaashi hesitated on hanging back from the intimacy, Bokuto would magnetize him to his side with a single glance. 

A man who introduced himself as Bokuto’s uncle asked if he would step in as a pallbearer, apologizing profusely. Akaashi found it wildly inappropriate but agreed nonetheless. 

The service was short and the receiving line followed painfully slowly as every attendant offered condolences to Bokuto and his mom one at a time on their way out. The echoes of stories of another’s life rang through Akaashi’s ears the whole time and the fact that not one story was about Bokuto or his mother did not escape him. 

Bokuto stood in front of him as they and his uncles and cousins carried his father into a car and then to his final resting place. 

It was approaching noon when the graveside service was over. The family that still lingered crowded around Bokuto’s mother, noticeably giving Bokuto space. Akaashi hadn’t seen anyone start a conversation with him, hadn’t seen anyone say anything to him beyond how sorry they were. 

When Bokuto finally popped up from his mother’s side, Akaashi followed.

He led them through the dry, patchy grass, weaving around headstones and nameplates waiting for their memorials to finish being etched elsewhere. The muffling of sobs and gentle communion were far away when Bokuto finally found a shady spot beneath an old tree and sat, leaning heavily against its rough trunk. 

Akaashi sat beside him. 

He hadn’t heard Bokuto speak since he’d arrived this morning. He didn’t recognize his face when it wasn’t alight with pride and adrenaline or mangled with scorn over whatever had shot down his high. It was simply, still. Bokuto was the least still person Akaashi had ever known. Even when Bokuto was the most focused on homework Akaashi had ever seen he would bounce his leg under the table or tap his pen against his textbook, his eyes swerving through his thoughts and feelings -- each one clear and readable across his face. 

Akaashi’s lips twitched with the desire to say something -- to find something helpful to ease the burden tense in the air. His father’s words struck him with a pinching sadness. 

_ Just be there for him when he needs you. _

So Akaashi didn’t speak, didn’t move. 

They watched the far-away crowd dissipate until one of Bokuto’s uncles was the last one left with his mother. She rose from the covered ground slowly, her brother’s hands at her elbow, and turned toward them, eyes squinting in the distance. 

Bokuto shook his head once and his mother’s face tightened before the two of them left in the car that brought them. 

They stayed that way, alone in the afternoon sun, for longer than he could keep track of. 

“Akaashi?”

A memory came back to him from months ago, shortly after he’d first arrived at Fukurodani: a dejected Bokuto curled up under a table, calling out to him. 

“Yes, Bokuto-san.”

The quiet filled the space between them again, the sun’s warmth creeping into the shade beneath the rustling leaves. 

“Does it make me a bad person if I won’t miss him?”

Akaashi had done hard things before in his life. He’d struggled. He’d failed and he’d overcome. But never had he felt the weight of keeping his eyes from looking at Bokuto, from shattering the already fragile vulnerability in his words. 

So he swallowed and stared straight ahead. “I don’t think so, Bokuto-san.”

As soon as the honorific had fallen from his lips, Bokuto’s face fell into his hands. He rubbed at his eyes fiercely and Akaashi let himself relax against the tree, his shoulder brushing against his friend’s with a gentle force. 

Because they were friends. 

Based on volleyball or not. 

They were friends.

With a heavy, wet inhale Bokuto stood abruptly, eyes up in the clouds. And then he turned, reaching out a hand. 

“Practice some spikes with me?”

Akaashi choked down whatever was trying to break free from his chest and took his hand to get to his feet. 

“Of course, Bokuto-san.”

-X-

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Basically, I'm angsty over the trope of making Bokuto a giant sexy five year old and Akaashi blindly loving him which I think is so inaccurate for their characters.....so this painful baby was born out of my own projections of my life onto Bokuto's. I relate to Bokuto so much as a character. It's not always rainbows and unicorns inside the heads of the friendly, over the top, dramatic friends who thrive on attention. 
> 
> Anyways, this is basically my soap box about the beauty that is bokuaka and me trying to prove that I can write Bokuto with some depth and it still be in character. 
> 
> I haven't really planned out more, but I have a few ideas?? So pls leave me a comment if you want me to continue! Or just want to complain about my sad story ruining your day, whichever.
> 
> THANK YOU IF YOUVE MADE IT THIS FAR. 
> 
> LIKE SO MUCH!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I'm feeling much less angsty today -- soooo sorry for the outbursts last time lmfao. 
> 
> Thank you guys so much for the kudos and comments! Very much appreciated. Comments are just the best, most inspiring thing for a writer so pleeeease leave me one if you can! 
> 
> HERE IS SOMETHING A LITTLE ON THE LIGHTER SIDE COMPARED TO THE LAST ONE

When the time finally ticked down to the end of the school day and the inevitable approach of their team hitting the locker rooms before practice, Akaashi caught the lobbed volleyball in his fingers instead of tossing it up for Bokuto. 

Bokuto, who was barely even sweating after more than an hour of repeated jumping and spiking, paused in his run-up. 

“Akaashiiii,” he whined. 

With his senses prickling as he waited for the last chime of the day, Akaashi didn’t budge. “Practice will be starting soon.”

“Okay, and?”

Akaashi had watched the restlessness ease back into Bokuto’s muscles with a tender familiarity after today’s events. He was lightly bouncing on the balls of his feet now, crossing and recrossing his arms as he waited for Akaashi to resume their ritual. 

“The others will be coming.”

Bokuto’s chest heaved with an exasperated breath. “Yeah, Akaashi. That happens every day.”

“You want to practice?”  _ After everything that happened today? _

His senpai narrowed his eyes, riding a fine line between humor and a precarious edge Akaashi was all too aware of. “Of course I want to practice!” 

Akaashi could still feel the warm breeze under the tree at the cemetery, still feel the cold bar of the casket in his hands, still see the bowed spine of Bokuto’s mother through the foggy glass from the porch. Bokuto’s question about his father was still ringing in his ears.

He threw the ball back in a chest pass, watching as Bokuto’s face relaxed. “Okay.”

Konoha and Sarukui were the first ones to join them, each bounding over to Bokuto to knock shoulders from either side. 

“Overachieving again, I see?” Konoha laughed, eyes landing on Akaashi. 

Sarukui stepped away, lazing through some stretches as he moved to the cart of volleyballs at the net. “Didn’t see you guys in class today.”

Bokuto elbowed Konoha in retaliation as the latter smirked, his light hair swinging as he evaded a second attack. 

Washio and Komi stepped through the double doors, the shorter of the two shouting, “Did you assholes warm-up without us?!”

The shoving match between Bokuto and Konoha ended with Bokuto sticking his tongue out at his opposite hitter. “Yeah, listen to your libero! Go warm up Konoha, nyeh~”

“We’re warming up too, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi said as he watched the rest of the team file in with the captain, Yukie, and Kaori. 

“Akaaaaashi,” Bokuto howled, “but we’re already warm!”

Everyone meandered to a corner of court A before picking up into a jog and Akaashi followed. “It’s about the tea--”

“I know, I know,” Bokuto sighed, already running to catch up to Komi leading the pack. He turned, elbows tight and fists raised as he bobbed beside the much shorter boy, keeping pace even in reverse. “C’mon guys! You all gonna let me win everything already?!”

A chorus of “Shut up, Bokuto!” left the ace with a wide grin before he resumed his jog. Akaashi watched as the team transformed into focused, steady competition as they caught up to their rowdy, unofficial leader.

And then he watched as Bokuto soared through practice, easily sliding between quick coaching moments and perfect spikes that inspired their best from middle blockers. His serves landed like missiles, his guidance was light and well-received, even by the third years who also seemed to notice that Bokuto was at the top of his game. 

Akaashi, however, was struggling to keep up. He did, though -- he couldn’t allow anything less. Settling it in himself, he decided he couldn’t show Bokuto one sign that he was off, that today’s events had affected him. So he donned a smooth expression, letting his mind fog over the memories of Bokuto’s wrinkled suit and his mother’s head on his shoulder in favor of relinquishing control of his actions to muscle memory. 

And when the practice was over and backs had all been clapped, whoops of exhaustion and pride fading out into the locker rooms, he shouldn’t have been surprised to hear Bokuto ask Akaashi to toss for him. 

“No.”

Bokuto’s ear fell to his shoulder, his brows crumpling. “Akaaaashi.”

“I’m hungry, Bokuto-san,” he complained and his muted voice sounded dangerously close to a whine. “Surely a protein bar in the afternoon isn’t enough for your bottomless stomach.”

On cue, Bokuto rested his palm on his gut as his head perked back up. “We can eat after,” he drawled, but his eyes practically drooled, betraying his persistence. “My treat!”

While Akaashi was feeling rather worse for wear after barely eating through the day they’d had, he’d also wanted to go home and see his parents. Maybe hug them a little tighter. 

But he definitely wasn’t about to tell that to Bokuto. 

“No,” he snapped. “Food. Now.”

And then Akaashi saw the buzz of Bokuto’s natural aura melt away as his attention drifted toward the door. This time his still state seemed more like one of his dejected modes — obvious and annoying. But after today, Akaashi found himself wondering if maybe there was more to Bokuto’s episodes than just his colorful personality. 

He was hardly any help as Akaashi packed away the net and swept the gym all while Bokuto stalked around the three courts collecting volleyballs, which Akaashi ended up finishing with him. 

When they were left standing on the stoop of the gym doors, suddenly Akaashi was having a hard time shoving his feet down the path home. That same magnetism that held him at Bokuto’s side all day kept him firmly in place as a certain wrongness crept into his mind. 

Akaashi slipped his hands into his pockets to avoid fidgeting with them. “Bokuto-san.”

Grunting met him, golden eyes avoiding him. 

“Would you like to come to my house for dinner with my family?” He made sure to leave in the last part, to warn Bokuto that he would be around something he’d lost so recently.

“Really, Akaashi?!”

“Really.”

Bokuto closed the distance between them, a smile splitting his face. “Yeah! Let’s do it.”

Akaashi nodded, taking the first step for them both. Bokuto’s presence too close to his side was nothing new, but he noted the way his senpai didn’t throw an arm over his shoulders like he’d done so many times before. It was probably nothing, surely, but he couldn’t stop himself from cataloging Boktuo’s actions today. 

The way he’d slouched on the bench waiting for Akaashi but sat up straight next to his mother. The way he’d avoided eye contact with his family but zeroed in on Akaashi whenever he strayed too far. The way he hadn’t spoken up over his uncle asking Akaashi to be a pallbearer or ever bothered to introduce him to his mom. 

He might have been in top form during practice, but this was not a normal day for Bokuto, even if he seemed to be trying so hard to make it one. 

When Akaashi opened the front door, Bokuto a step behind, they were greeted with screaming. 

“MIKO!” 

“No!” 

“Give it back!”

“ Hey now.” The soothing sound of his father made Akaashi tense next to Bokuto. “Sumi, baby, I’m sure you have your own toys--”

“No! I want to play with this one!” 

Bokuto was already pulling his shoes off as Akaashi called out through the house. “I’m back.”

“Keiji!” his mother said, her voice approaching. “How--”

“With Bokuto-san,” Akaashi added, talking over her. 

She stepped into the entryway with a smile, her eyes a little too wide. “Oh, Bokuto-kun! It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise--” Bokuto sung, dipping his head in a brisk bow. 

“Emi.”

“--Emi-san,” he finished beside Akaashi, their attention all pulled away by another wail in the common room. 

“We have company!” Emi announced and the noise immediately snuffed out as she beckoned the boys to follow her.

Akaashi’s father was crouched between his siblings, a gentle smile on his face fading as he noticed the new arrivals. “Oh, Bokuto-kun, so nice to finally meet you,” he said, rising to his feet. “Call me Kaito.”

Bokuto mimicked his first quick bow. “Kaito-san. Thank you both for having me!” 

Kaito’s gaze slipped over to Akaashi’s mother and Akaashi knew they were both confused.

“Sorry,” he said. “I should have called or something.”

His mother’s hand fell on his shoulder easily. “No problem, Keiji. Bokuto-kun is always welcome here.”

A hum from his father confirmed and Bokuto grinned, before inevitably getting distracted. 

“Whoa,” he said, bending to his knees. “Is that Bakugo?”

Rin snapped his arms behind his back, hiding the toy he’d just been fighting with his sister over. “Yeah, what of it?”

Bokuto tipped his head. “He’s so cool,” he said, looking between the boy and the smaller girl almost hiding behind him. “Do you guys like Boku No Hero?” 

Rin scoffed petulantly and Akaashi barely saw Sumiko nod. 

“Favorite character?” Bokuto asked with a raised brow. 

Now, Rin drew the action figure out to hold in the space between them. “Bakugo! Duh!”

“Yeah,” Bokuto nodded idly, “he’s pretty strong. What about you?”

Sumiko ducked under Rin’s arm as her brother proudly stated, “Miko loves Bakugo too,” before mumbling, “She also kinda likes Ashido ‘cause she’s pink.”

“And her acid is crazy!” Bokuto said, pretending to shoot something out from his wrists with small sound effects. 

Sumiko giggled. 

“Who’s your favorite?” 

Bokuto looked back to Rin. “Kirishima, for sure. He’s  _ so  _ manly.”

“I have his action figure too,” Rin said, his voice finally rising a bit with excitement. “You wanna see?”

“Of course!” Then he was quickly dragged from the room by a ten and five-year-old, tossing a quick, “Be right back, Akaashi!” over his shoulder. 

“So,” Akaashi’s father broke the lingering silence. “How is he really?”

Akaashi avoided his parents’ eyes. “I don’t know.”

“I’m surprised he didn’t want to go home to be with his mother,” Akaashi’s own mother whispered, tightening something in Akaashi’s chest. 

He considered telling them what Bokuto had asked him under the tree. 

“He seemed like he didn’t want to go home after practice,” he settled on instead. “So I gave him the option to come with me.”

“Grief is complicated,” Akaashi’s father said, clapping a hand on Akaashi’s shoulder as his mother moved back into the kitchen. 

“Yeah.”

“Keiji, come set the table,” his mother instructed and he followed dutifully. 

When food was ready Sumiko was the first to emerge from the hall of bedrooms, a stricken look across her round, pink cheeks. 

“I’m sorry, Nii-san,” she mumbled, wrapping small arms around Akaashi’s legs. 

Akaashi’s brows furrowed, looking to Rin and Bokuto behind her. 

Rin shrugged. “She called Bo-san, Nii-san and he told her it might make you sad if she did that. He told us to call him Bo instead.”

Akaashi pat his little sister’s back, rubbing small circles. “You can call Bokuto-san Nii-san if you want to, Sumi-chan. It’s alright.”

She didn’t loosen her hold, only smooshed her face across his hip to look up at him. “Yeah?”

“Mhm,” he nodded. 

Then she bolted, a triumphant “Nii-san!” bursting from her lips as she flung herself at Bokuto who deftly caught her. He swung her nimbly all the way to the table before setting her down. They ate in the midst of comfortable chatter, most of which came from Rin who apparently needed Bokuto’s approval on all of his interests. 

Akaashi was surprised to be grateful for his siblings’ energy keeping the atmosphere pleasant, despite the day that haunted him like a weight on his back. 

After they finished eating and played a few rounds of volleyball, Akaashi and Bokuto on their knees for passing drills with Rin and Sumiko, the kids were sent to baths and bed leaving the two of them sitting on the steps of Akaashi’s front porch. 

The night air was stale, a few stars daring to peek through the city’s smog. 

“Akaashi?”

“Yes, Bokuto-san.”

“Thanks.”

Hours later, as Akaashi tossed and turned in bed wondering whether Bokuto made it home okay and what it was like being back there, he wished he’d have asked what Bokuto was thanking him for. 

-X-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My chapters are always this short-ish. Typically I just kinda go with my mood at the time and cover whatever I feel like covering. But they should never be shorter than this one!! Promise. 
> 
> Lemme know what you think?? 
> 
> OK UNTIL NEXT TIME FRIENDS


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